Thursday, May 28, 2015

The silent pain

On the days that you least expect it, that's when the silent yet numbing pain attacks. It starts with crying. The uncontrolled tears simply falling. The harder you try to stop them, the faster they come. You see the reflection of this numbing pain in your children. They act out, they seek you, they cry and whine. They are unsettled by your discomfort. This makes the pain worse. Now you are stuck in a cycle, forever spinning the wrong way.

You grab something to hold on to, anything that will ground you. Desperate to hold yourself amidst reality so the irrational thinking will cease, or at the very least go silent. You try and try to reorient yourself. The numbness spreads, physically overtaking your entire body until it feels like a tangible entity. A force you are no longer capable of fighting or fending off. More tears.
How did this happen?
Wasn't today a good day?
You had an amazing solo run yesterday, you accomplished so many tasks, everyone is 90% healthy again.
You felt so in control only hours earlier.
So strong.

Now everyone is tense and upset.
And you blame yourself.
You want to make it all better, but the stupid tears keep falling and the pain makes it impossible to do anything.

You want to run. Just leave it all behind. But then what? 
The pain is still there and now you are causing more pain with your absence.

You cling to yourself. You keep repeating that it will pass.
You cry.
You cry some more.
You cry until arms embrace you and tell you that it is hard, but we will find a way together.

And if there are no arms right now, here are mine. Wide open.
Don't be alone with your silent pain. 
Just cry with me.
Rage with me.
Just be.

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